The Death of Me
by RoseWren
Summary: Rin, after losing her child, falls through the well to Feudal Japan and into the lives of those who now find that they cannot live without her. Explores insanity. SessRin AU
1. Phantom

The Death of Me- By TheRoseofTheStar

AN- I'd appriciate feed back!

Chapter 1: Well

She was there; a ghost of indecision, of the shards of her past, a phantom child. If she looked out of the corner of her eye she would sometimes catch a glimpse of her now. Her child as she should have been.

She had given her up, had her surgically removed from her body when she found she could not safely carry her to birth.

And the child, the decision, haunted her still: when her breasts ran with milk and the sweetness of it dripped down her sides, when the father left her in disgust, and when she fell through that blasted well and the phantom appeared before her as she should have lived. She was older, whole, dressed in a ridiculous frilly dress, and staring at her balefully.

She reached to take it in her arms and her fingers passed through like smoke. She knew to cry then, as she could not before; howl, pound upon the walls of the well, to tear her nails on her skin, rip her clothes to shreds, let her milk splatter upon the ground, and act with such desperate possession to rouse the people of the nearby village.

They peered over into the well, lifted her up and carried her to their grandmother healer, exclaiming over her outlandish clothes and her current state. She raved, carrying on about "children," and then clawing the sky and renting the air with her furious rants.

The people laid her at Kaede's feet and left to wait outside for news of the woman who stirred their pity.


	2. Icy Hold

_Chapter 2_

She lay upon the bed, her face deadly pale and wan. Her brown hair cascading to the floor, one hand flung over her eyes and one held to her breast.

Kaede observed her pityingly, sweeping a sweaty curl from her temple with her weathered fingers. She lifted the woman's head up gently, pouring an infusion through her lips.

"Mother?" It was the first word the woman had spoken since her arrival, and her voice was an odd one, low and throaty but gentle.

"Don't speak." Warned Kaede, pressing her finger to her lips. The woman watched silently as the old healer bustled about the hut.

It seemed the injured woman retreated into herself, her eyes darkening to a cloudy emerald.

"Mother, mother, mother…" She stared at the wattle and daub ceiling and let the old healer salve her cuts. "My baby, baby, baby, baby…"

Kaede wrapped her arms with herbs and thick cloth and laid her to rest on a cot of woven rushes.

"My baby, mother?" There was nothing to reply and Kaede reached and extinguished the lamp with a wave of her hand.

"Sleep."

* * *

"Come child." The whisper was from the shadows, beckoning, soft, sweet. "Come, sit with me." 

Curious, the girl climbed into the shade of the awning, and up onto the bench next to the ever present mystery woman.

"Come child." She held out a hand with a candied tart clasped in it, still urging her closer.

She slid farther stretching out a hand. It a flash the woman had her, cooing, smothering, binding, breaking,; her skin burning! Her breath so hot on her ears.

"Baby, my baby, baby, baby…" The woman was rocking the girl's limp body back and forth, crooning.

"_No! Let her go!" _They hit her knuckles, wrapped their hands around her arms and tugged her pale, skeletal limbs away fromtheir hold.

"Don't take my baby from me!" Kaede, whispered to her, kissed her tears away.

"My baby?"

"She's dead love, let her be. Let her rest" And she knew no more as the waves of sleep crashed over her head.

* * *

"She can't stay…" 

"Will my baby be alright? That wretched woman! What was she thinking?"

"Compassion, that's what I advise…_Exile?_ Never! The child…"

"Can't stay!"

"Provisions? What good would…demons in a day!"

"What of our children? Insane! Exile only…"

"Never! Not while I'm…"

"Kaede…!"

"I've been here before you were born…"

"She can't stay! Not in the same village as my baby!"

"…"

"She can't!"

"…No… Provisions? Weapons? Very well…

My poor foundling…what have you done?"

* * *

Reviewer Response Corner: 

Yavi- Eh...shrugs It's an AU btw, should have put that in the summary, hmmm...ta!

killertrees-Thanks!I glad you like it!

New Fan- Well tell me if this one's long enough...I hope so.

sesshoumarugurlz- I LOVE Sesshoumaru! keening screech as author hurdles herself into Sesshoumaru cutout ...cough Thanks!

AN- Wel, I'm not quite sure if I'm happy with this chapter, it's choppy, and I'll probably have to rewrite it but I wanted to give you guys somethng. Love ya!


	3. Always Selfish

Chapter 3- Always Selfish

She roved, haunted the village's hems of days upon days like a silent, malevolent ghost, and scavenging their corners when, suddenly, she vanished.

"That's good that's gone." As they would say, but Kaede could not help but feel that there was something for her now; whether death or healing, she knew not, but the child would be.

And of course, as the saying went:

"Lambkins; we will live."

* * *

She left not long after she realized that they would not take her back, taking to the West along a creek. 

It was in times of silence that she cast around for anything, something, to latch onto. There was the thrilling darkness of the forest but it was all encompassing, and while all encompassing, nothing to detract from its darkness. She didn't mind the darkness, but rather the press of thoughts she could not escape.

And finally she came across it: Rock. She found it in the Creek, perfect, seeming a vortex of darkness, pitted in a thousand spots and sponge like. She could turn it in her hands and never tire-her thoughts would never intrude upon her and the Rock. She was insane; she knew it when memories floated to the surface like bubbles in a champagne glass, bubbles, she knew were caused by dust…hey? She asked herself, what about Mom? _You've always been selfish_…And what about Johnny? What about him; you brother? _Always been selfish…_

Suddenly her excuse was a mantra, another something to cling to, a comfort. _Always selfish_…She smiled.

_Take your name too._ _Always selfish, right?_ Emma, you are no more…

She spun- _always selfish!- _spinning and delirious she lifted her head and- _always selfish!- _jumped, pirouetting in the air to land –_always selfish Marie Camargo!- _with perfect grace.

She lifted her gaze to lock eyes with a snarling youki.

"Explain yourself!"

She had nothing to say.

"_Always selfish? ARTEMIS!" _And in a flurry of almost inhuman speed and grace, leaping over logs with the agility of viscosity of a deer, she was gone.

And yapping, they were on her heels with a speed no human could match; even if she was a thought child of Artemis the Huntress.

* * *

Winded and weary, they bowed before their Lord, presenting him with their comatose and blood sodden quarry. 

"Jakken will attend to her."

The words carried a sting: sharp, cold, precise, and they rushed to obey. The Boss was lively, they thought, lively enough to kill, as opposed to his usual unfeeling. This, more than any development so far, frightened them out of their wits and after depositing their prey outside the toad's door they transformed, and claws clicking of the floor as they yipped in their haste, departed.

It was never wise to stay in the castle when the Lord was emotional.

* * *

Her scent bothered, no, he mused, unsettled him. Insanity, clean and pure; dried, spoilt milk, blood, dirt, and, he paused at this. There were many other scents that clung to her unwashed, filthy personage- despair, death, disappointed hope- but he could not name this one. Foreign. 

Her insanity was not contagious; it came from within…and yet he could not help but feel she was capable of doing great harm.

"She is not to be let near Rin." He snapped out the order to servant behind him.

"Yes, Sesshoumaru-sama."

* * *

AN: Well...Are all of my reviewers in their graves already or can I beg forgiveness?

REVIEWER CORNER:

InuObsessed O.O- . Love your pen name! That chapter was supposed to be confusing, but in a good way I guess. I don't know.shrugs Sorry!

inufire- . The 2nd chapter was supposed to be, but this one should clear the air; don't hesitate to tell me if it doesn't.

Yavi: Ha! Ah, okay, fine. AU means Alternate Universe. :PAnd those are small details...strikes pose until lawn mower bowles her over

Agent -doo-I loved your review!No, it's not all in her head quite, but as her mind percieves it...thoughtfully tries to reword ...I mean, well, I'm going to confuse you more if I try to explain rather, she's going to confuse herself more . and I hope the story will do the explaining for me.


	4. Words on the Air

Chapter 4: Music's Dawn

Dawn, she had found, came late in the Lord's palace; the night always seemed darker, the stars always a little brighter, the moon glowing, forever waxing.

And for some reason that disturbed her.

She did not know why he had taken pity on her- was it pity? – and she did not know how to be grateful.

Damn, she wanted a smoke.

She waned in her rooms, watching the moon by night, dozing in fitful wakefulness by day, ever attended by servants who went unseen.

* * *

Allusions- illusions 

All I want from you

is another bed warmer caught in the throes

of ecstasy…

She painted the words of a song that ran through her head in invisible ink on the wall- it dried than needed to be repainted. Sometimes, she found she was painting in blood- blood that flowed from raw wounds- that dried on the wall. And would not disappear.

She stared at the brown stains, and smiled. Very good.

* * *

It was one of those chill days- days, she decided, being a relative term. There was only night: the silver sickle hanging in the sky, the clear starscape, and that what came between. 

But there were dust motes hanging in the air, the frail sunlight turning white as it shone through the room.

She traced designs in the air, words in the golden dust motes of evening- c-a-r b-u-s v-a-n p-h-o-n-e c-h-i-l-d There would be no consoling her. C-h-i-l-d c-h-i-l-d- b-a-b-y b-a-b-y b-a-b-y Words, words were all she had left of her life.

It was the night of her fourth dawn- or the dawn of her fourth night? She bit back a humorless grin and sat cross-legged on her expansive futon.

"I wish to speak with the Lord." She folded her hands, smiling, tipping her head back and angling her shoulders. "If he would parler with me, I would be honored."

Her expression was smooth, serene, smiling -somehow chillingly blank- and so different from the being they who had waited upon her had come to know. They whispered among themselves, tossing options back and forth until they came to a decision.

It seemed that there really was no decision at all.

* * *

The Lord Sesshoumaru was hardly amused when he was told of the woman's wish, but of course, hardly anything amused him so it was no real surprise. He registered it with the same bland expression that betrayed nothing, that is if there was anything to betray. 

Or so it was said of the Lord of the Western Lands: he was completely and utterly emotionless, pitiless, merciless.

And as they spoke in their hushed reedy voices, Lord Sesshoumaru was making his way to the woman's room.

His silver hair shivered and spread out behind him while his escort watched it apprehensively- they were sure normal hair couldn't bite, but 'normal' was never on the list of adjectives they had for their lord.

* * *

AN- So…maybe people would like to know why I take so long to update…Ummm, see, it's a funny story! Honestly! … … . … -cough cough- 

Ok, so I'm entering the International Baccalaureate; it's an extremely _excruciating, _program (for those who know what I'm talking about...) At any rate, I'm also going into high school. -gasp!- Yes, I AM only fourteen.

…

So yeah. Love me or hate me, at least bare with me. (Have MEEEERCY!)

Bye!


	5. Death's Serenity

Chapter Five: Sernenity

Her face was of cool marble- cool, white with the pale etchings of blue veins- with the red slash that dripped words for a mouth, and two holes- pits- for eyes. Her glossy, raven-wing hair was pulled back from her face and there was an icy beauty that hung on her personage.

The Lord came in and took a seat, folding to sit across from her.

Her smile was empty, and her eyes were a flickering onyx reflecting the single candle that lit the room. The slash- bloody, rose red- curved to form the parody or a smile-perfect and grotesque.

"Greetings, Sesshoumaru-sama." Her hand rose to her collarbone and flicked out.

He eyed the motion, and then shook his head; her ways were none of his concern.

Her eyes gleamed fiercely under the warm glow of the candle.

"Greetings woman." There was no inflection to worry the meaning away. She smiled again, hiding teeth behind a hand.

"I am honored with your presence." He nodded and she continued. "I wish to know if your palace has a garden. Your hospitality is unparalleled but I long for the companionship of the sky and breathing things."

Her voice was cool, lilting, and with an odd, resigned serenity-like skating across thin ice. His eyes flickered across her face and finally settled right above her frost-threaded green eyes. He could not meet them- would not meet them, he assured himself, for to do so would to say that she was of equal status to his own.

She was the first to blink, and for a moment he was distracted, and was caught as surely as the black widow's last husband. There was a softness of discordant song that he had mistaken for unyielding ice, an innocence, bewildered, that he had taken for the flash of silver fang in the night. She was a woman of contradictions, the dagger protecting the innocent, warm blood melting the fresh snow, the doe before the hunter, and the hunter with the knife.

Her eyes were disgusting, dirty, ugly! things; bulbous, almost as he watched him, like the swimmer under for too long. And as he watched them, he could see them distort- they could have once been beautiful- but never now.

In another blink it was gone and he was staring at the chilly eyes of a mad woman.

"There is a garden for your use in the East Wing. My personal servant Jakken will be at your disposal." He stood, the only sound being the rustling of his robes settling into their folds.

A green creature with large, bulging yellow eyes darted forward, uttering a cry, "Not _your_ Jakken!"

Nodding the woman veiled her hands and repeated her opening gesture.

And turning on his heel, the Lord departed, hair whipping like silver snakes behind him.

-

She shut her eyes, deliberately folding her hands over the fine silk of her obi and letting her body relax. _Always selfish, no? Koken. _And she let the familiarity of nothing- _no name_ness- come like cool rain.

She felt no remorse of taking names when they suited her, and leaving them when they didn't. It was something of a game she played; a game with definite advantages, she decided.

Shifting subtly, she turned her gaze to the green creature. It was decidedly odd, as many things were in this world, but she didn't mind.

"Lady, should you wish to visit the gardens now, I shall assist you." Tipping her head to one side, she caught its eyes with her own.

She smiled, welcoming, cupped its toad cheek and stared into its eyes. A shudder went through the creature but she probed deeper, pushing against something she couldn't name. She could hear it, something, frenzied, _a heartbeat._ She paused- paused and slowly clamped down on that beat, heard it falter, slow, boom and echo, pound- falter and stumble, miss and splutter. She knew if she didn't let up soon the creature would die and her garden gate would close.

But something struggled in the recesses of its mind, flickered but would not be quenched. She pushed at it and it pushed back.

She smiled serenely and let the mind go.

She was drunk with power: a mix of euphoria and the serenity of death.

AN: Okay, I know that my Rin seems a little out of character in this chapter but you'll see why in the next one! Than you for sticking with this story! You guys are the best! Yavi, thank you for your never ending support, even when you _didn't _like it.

Reviewer Response Corner:

agent-doo: Thanks for reviewing! Ok, here's the answer to your question but I hope it was kind of cleared up in this chapter. She takes 'names' just as she gave her own away, and with taking these names, she takes the traits of those they belonged to; in essence she takes their identity. It's weird, but…hey. –shrugs- .

Danica Blake: I love the questions! But if I answered them now it'd ruin the surprise! –okay, so maybe I haven't decided . - But please! keep reading.

Yavi- HA! Again, I'm not going to spoil it… . … . Ok, reference to agent-doo's review response, but I hope this chapter gave something as to an answer to your question.

Spiritually-lunar- Love the penname! . Thanks!


	6. Weaving

Chapter Six:

It was raining when she reached the garden.

It was a darkened palace; high, arches of intertwined branches stretching to the sky, the dark silver of birch and the dark flesh-bark of oak, and the bright gray sky stretching above her; the heady rain-scent of fever-few and thyme underfoot. Rain water pooled at the base of a decrepit fountain, cracked at the heart and a mourning, naked woman sitting and dying.

She ran to it, slipped her arms into the water and then slid her torso forward, sliding into the fountain without so much as a splash.

The cold ran down her arms, ran down her skin and through to her heart, made the green silk of her kimono cling to her and be her name.

She felt fey- felt like a creature of the spirit- like dancing, screaming, calling down the rain and drowning in it. She floated, feeling the weight of the kimono begin to drag her down.

She closed her eyes, slowly untying the obi and letting it slither away like a golden water snake into the deeps. She squirmed out of the kimono, and let it drift down in a swirl of mossy green.

Drifting, she felt the water's center and the rain upon her face, upon her alabaster scars, gentle caresses of ice.

This was a place of water and stone, and she pushed the air out her chest and let herself sink. It was a dark cradle, a cold womb- she felt her back hit the bottom and she stared at the pale ageless light falling down.

Yes, this was a good way to go- cold refuses to feel remorse and was almost…reminiscent of her life as some gray dream.

A flash of green- darkly mossy- caught her eye, moving lazily but gaining speed. She felt warm hands on her arms and she opened her mouth to scream- so very painful- the warmth against her unyielding cold!

Water flooded her mouth. It was a type of punishment meant for this warm creature! That she could be cold from the outside as well from the inside.

* * *

She as being propelled upwards by the creature, she felt herself moving through the darkness of her watery womb before giving into to the consuming darkness.

It was something of a punishment, she knew, self-inflicted punishment to make her break into insanity so that she could no longer say that it was _her _pain The only likeness was of poking at an open wound- no, she reasoned, more like plunging a hand into her chest and carving out- slowly! What had claimed her soul.

A heart that remembers. There was an unborn child within that heart, a girl? Yes, one dressed in fully petticoats and frills and everything that she had ever bought to fill that empty nursery.

This child that her mind conjured up to drive her over the edge so as to end its suffering.

It was a cruel thing, its eyes almost the same brown as hers, but flashing like some fine Spanish gold. Gold edged lace for the trellis of the nursery…

And dark hair, her bangs pulled out of her eyes by a yellow band of satin. The dull cloth of her obviously self-fashioned dress glimmered wetly with checkered patterns in yellow and orange.

Bright colors of the sun…

"You're the one Sesshoumaru-sama told Rin to stay away from." She flashed a brilliant smile at her…

She didn't know how to fell; names to bring on their power eluded her and this child was expecting a response.

"How very wise of him." The child looked hurt.

"Yes! Sesshoumaru-sama is always wise…"

"You look so sad? Why?" The girl peered up into her face.

"I gave my name away." Rin seemed puzzled by this but nodded.

"That was a very silly thing to do," Rin nodded sagely, "But we can fix that! Here, how about Kagome? Rin knows a girl by that name but Rin doesn't think that she'd mind sharing. See, she travels around with…'that half-breed!'" She snapped her fingers and grinned brightly.

"But _she's_ nice- do you like that one?"

She cocked one eyebrow, dimly remembering that children of this age were incredibly impressionable. That they needed kindness and softness.

"Hmmm…Do you mind sharing?" The girl babbled, "Yes? Hmmm…how bout Miaka? Rin's always like that one… 'k, then how about Kohaku? Rin hasn't met…oh wait, never mind. Well then let's make up one…

Abruptly she covered her ears but thoughts seemed to rattle around inside her head, in the space between her ears.

"Go child, you cannot name me."

A refusal to be defined as human; something that could feel pain.

* * *

AN: Um, my absence is explained…well actually, I don't quite have an explanation. It was at peril to life and limb that I hadn't updated in a while (I just couldn't work out the scene between Rin and Emma to my satisfaction.) Be thankful to Aran'sApprinticeMeahow for making me get my arse in order. If anyone's actually reading this, that is...?

Yavi: Yeah, I don't know quite how I'm going to make the eye thing work. >.> I may just gloss it over but then it wouldn't quite be as fun. Green is something of an insane color for me (you have your greys, I have my greens. Yay!) I don't know, it was something of him acknowledging her for him. I wanted that... Keh.

Niph Speaks: Merci! I'm glad the imagry is working for you. .


	7. Flying

Chapter 7

It was in a dream she laughed, high and clear; great peals roaring into the air. Roaring, free, up and up and then swooping, writhing with delicious pleasure then relaxing, falling. Laughter.

She felt the wings on her back go slack suddenly, collapsing gracefully and sending her plummeting. She fell into ice. Flying to ice-_ice!_ she could have wept.

It was a wasteland of barren straits, and as she put down a foot, prisms danced away from her. She knew better than to try to catch beauty, and stuffed her hands under her armpits for warmth.

There! Rising out of the world was a shapeless blob.

She took off, sprinting, leaping, falling, sliding over the white. Later, she could never say how long it took, whether she was caught in a second or within a decade.

The compulsion drove her on. Run. Runrunrunrunrunrunrun-her heart spluttered-runrunrunrunrunrunrunrunRUN!it didn't end, and she couldn't make it stop. So she accepted it.

It was an instant death; suddenly she was anywhere and everywhere at once, screaming in euphoria (or was it agony?) And then abruptly, she was standing utterly still on the plain. The world reeled around her and her wings fluttered lifelessly behind her, the thin membrane already adopting a blue-black lace. She drew them about her like the folds of a cloak, and then proceeded with agonizing slowness, on foot. The compulsion was placed with a mind-numbing quiet. Solitude of ice. It fit.

It was a sculpture, she saw, of a woman. It caught the sullen light and flared to turquoise fire, and then faded-extinguished by her shadow. Raising a hand, she traced the jaw, the lips, the lidded eyes, curls and ribbons woven within them. Cupping the cheeks, she ignored the melted water running down her arms. She stared into the sculpture and noted the imperfections within the ice, and little bubbles caught within then. Angling her body to cast less shadow, the fire rekindled and turned each imperfection into a glimmering star.

She wanted to catch each and every one of them, and she pressed her hands against the woman's sides, letting the fire of her life drain into the task. The ice sucked it away greedily; taking more and yielding little. Her breath no longer fogged before her, and every breath seemed like swallowing a dagger.

But she was making some headway, and at last she caught one. A flaw, some imperfection was caught and she saw her hand pass through the fire. Gasping,the irony suddenlyoccurred to her, that she was trying to catcha star. She laughed and laughed and wept through her laughter.

She woke to a shadow bending next to her fire, stirring the embers with a careless hand. The smell of burnt flesh flickered like a lazy snake and disappeared as youki blood did its work.

"You were laughing." It was just a statement; holding no inflection. Not a biting remark, only holding a thought given life.

Smiling, she shrugged, "Perhaps."

* * *

_Morning, and a pretty sunrise..._

Pretty! She snorted in derision. It was not for her to judge beauty of the lack thereof. What was it that they (who were they?-the age old question-) said was beauty? Just words to express an oppinion and once a label is taken, it cannot be undone. _Whoever said that words could never hurt you, obviously never thought it through. Words are like tatoos; quick and sometimes painless, but never fade._

* * *

Review Corner:

Boyo: Don't be afraid to tear me a new one when you write a review! I want critique! But it means alot to me that you review-love you!

Yavi: I'm starting to have her think, does that count as a motive? Time passing-working on it...>.>Your reviews always mean so much!

* * *

AN: Sorry guys-I'd wanted to have this chapter be one of more substance but as my bio says, I've had alot on my plate. 


	8. Lapse into Sane

Chapter 8

In a violent motion, the only one he allowed to betray any feeling on the matter, simultaneously melted the declaration of war and threw it out the window.

One of his vassals had defected, taking his clan and all of their connections with him, and was now calling himself the Lord of the Eastern Lands. Sesshoumaru could've lived with that if the said vassal hadn't decreed that the Western Lands were also to be his. Like hell they were, thought the lord.

By holy decree, he said, that he was the 'Chosen' to rule all under the sun.

Sesshoumaru felt his muscles clench, shoulders tensing and hunching; it'd been a trait his mother had hated, that at the first sign of danger he began to "prepare for the worst." At this she'd toss her hair, grin, and pick him up to swing around.

"Live a little!" She'd exclaim as she spun and then set him down, pinching his cheeks and brushing his nose with her hair to make him squeal in delight.

Then Father would come and look from his wife to his son, shake his head in disappointment, and head back inside. He never did -could- accept how life-loving or how human his wife was, but when she was gone, it was all he could do but to go and fall for a human woman. Bitterly, Sesshoumaru remembered how his mother's shoulders would slump as his father turned away, and how she longed for his unconditional approval.

He shivered into customary state of utter compose, then tossed his hair over his shoulder, and as economically as he could, drew up his war plans.

Never would he be caught unawares.

Emma woke one morning, the sun slanting through high windows onto a pitcher of water then tossing up rippling reflections onto the bare walls. She was in an unfamiliar place, on an unfamiliar bed, and she /i/stank/i/ to high heavens. The ceiling stared back as she lay awake and unblinking, trying to assimilate her surroundings.

A small toad scuttled into the room, precariously balancing a large platter two times it size on its' head while surreptitiously sneaking glances to her prone form. Watching it, she realized that it wanted to get away; that it /i/feared/i/ her and only something that it feared more compelled it to do this. She stretched and the toad cringed away from her, deposited its' burden within reach of the bed and-tripping over its' own feet-ran from the room.

Her hands locked together over her head and Emma arched her back; she would be late for class one, but Annette could cover for her-providing that the students could understand that crazy accent... She paused, staring at her hands; there was something wrong. They were her hands, but too...too angular, too pale, too skinny. She flipped them over, studied her palm, then flipped them back over to study trace the bruisy-looking lace of vein. Too strange.

The idea stirred a gusty whirlwind of emotion and suddenly she was living a dream; or was she but a dream? Some waking figment of this dreamer who was she-but-not-she. The body was her own, but it felt stretched out. _She_ felt stretched out; wan and transparent and...insubstantial as a ghost.

It was an Olympic feat of will to swing her legs over the side of the bed and she winced as the sheets peeled away from her skin, glued to her with sweat and- she stiffened- urine. Emma tried not to shriek with disgust, instead stripping the bed and tossing the lot into the hearth at the end of the room.

This done, she grabbed a pitcher and basin and scrubbed her hands raw. Hissing, slowly filling with a righteous rage, she stalked to the door and tugged.

It was locked.

Emma let loose a scream, "DAMMIT! MOTHER FUCKER, OPEN!" The door remained obstinately closed and she glared wholeheartedly.

A long moment passed and she took a deep breath; what was with her? She was a sensible young woman with a sensible job, who wore sensible clothes, led a sensible _life_. There was nothing to warrant this reaction; she may not know where she was, but there was no doubt a reasonable _sensible _explanation for everything. What the hell was she doing to lose her head like that?

Emma breathed, inhaling and exhaling slowly, then opened her eyes and smiled an easy smile. First things first, she thought, putting a finger to her lips pensively.

She returned to the basin and wriggled out of her clothes. Her body was rank, but she worked, scraping with her fingers and cleanest bit of cloth on her nightdress, until she was pink underneath the grime. Wrinkling her nose at the thought of putting the soiled gown back on, she scoured the room until she located a folded sheet in the single dresser.

Better than going naked, she supposed morosely and wrapped the sheet around her form and rolled it down till it was snug it a shoulderless, floor-length dress.

Maru-kun would be worried out of his mi- her vision swum and for a moment the world jumped. Figures in white coats loomed over her and her surroundings shivered. Then the world popped back into focus.

She wrapped her arms around herself and-

_Sun motes spun and she traced their dances gleefully. They spiraled away from her touch, eddies carrying them out the ajar door. She followed them, growing increasingly frustrated as they leaped away from her outstretched fingers at every turn._

-and fell back into her skin. The landing hurt with the cobblestones hard underneath her butt, yet she was in a corridor.

The sight of the hallway stretching infinitesimally into the shadows struck like a physical blow. Emma drew her feet up under her chin and began to cry.

The nothing-woman found herself later in that position, half-waking and with a pulse pounding insistently in her neck that wouldn't go away.

That annoyed her and she raised a hand to stop it. It pushed against her fingers, and for a blinding moment she swayed. Nothing was real anymore; shapes blurred and grew shapeless tentacles that reached out and bridged, creating wraith-like shadows that jerked and twisted with faux life. Puppets.

Puppets! She _loved_ puppets; so very beautiful, so unresisting...It was her hobby and passion to collect them. She lined her house with staring eyes and little lost souls; oh yes, how she loved them! Clean wood (clay? the thought came with disjointed clarity,) paint, and creativity (a little piece of soul with each!)To make the perfect marionette.

Mournful, she reflected on her own attempts; all shabby and grotesque- some with no eyes and lots of mirrors, some in traditional kimonos clutching fans and knives, all those crimson eyes on the verge of fluttering closed. All dead.

Soulless, she shrugged away the thought. She just couldn't give them the soul that she wanted to. More's the pity.

She dusted herself off and leaned into a crouch, then levered herself up. The hallway stretched out, but the late evening sun's slanting rays slipped through the narrow archers' nooks that ran along the upper wall. It was wholly unfamiliar territory and she ached to explore it, wondering only passively how she'd gotten there in the first place. She turned and knocked lightly on the door to her right, it opened into a gaping maw of tangible darkness. Poking at the stuff, it writhed, falling back onto itself to escape and she laughed gleefully. She shut the door with a sigh; I'll be back to play later, she promised.

This continued for some time, her opening doors and peering inside before regretfully shutting them. She came then upon a door that would not open, no matter how many times she knocked lightly and twisted the knob. Bitterly she scraped her nails across the surface, ignoring the pinpricks of pain that came as splinters were driven into her nailbeds.

"Woman, what are you doing?" Irritably, she turned to face the lord of the castle. He raised a brow at her petulant pull of the mouth, and watched as she shifted from foot to foot.

She raised a hand and the middle finger was half extended when a gust ripped down the corridor When he'd turned back, all childishness was gone and in its place, stood a shade of a brilliant woman.

Blinking, she whispered something to herself and the lord couldn't help but watch her pale fingers as they wrapped and twined themselves into complex knots. Her hair, matted and disgusting as it was, was worn as a veil that underneath, he could glimpse who she used to be.

In another time, under different circumstances, in a different world, and if fate had been kinder, she would've been striking, yet now she was more than a little too pale, too wild, too strange to be more than acceptable. "What is your name?"

"Emma." She said it as if she weren't too sure herself.

"Emma," Exotic, surely, he nodded as he rolled the sounds around on his tongue. But not displeasing, he assured himself.

He wouldn't expend the energy to ask if she was the one he'd spoken with earlier, not when he already knew the answer.

He frowned and she interpreted it as an effort to assimilate the two images.

"I'd like a bath," She paused. It was too surreal, too weird to be in this pile of stacked stones talking to this man- this being. She gazed at him through under lowered lashes; such a very beautiful man.

Beautiful, she almost immediately rejected the word. He wasn't beautiful, she merely was infatuated; though whether it was his obviously kingliness or the way he wore his power like a tangible thing. He wasn't beautiful, as everything he was was given to excess from his liquidating gaze to his- she couldn't put her finger on the singular attribute which made his so very magnetic, so very unresistably /i/magnetic/i/.

"Sesshoumaru-sama," He supplied, gracefully covering up her fumble.

"Gomen-nasai," She accepted, bowing. "Hai, I'd like a bath if it pl-"

In a movement quicker than the eye could see, she was thrown up against the wall with the lord's body pressed flush to hers.

"Stay!" It was a hissed whisper and he pushed her into a crouch, then left.

A long, agonized scream reverberated down the corridor and she pressed her face into the wall. Gods!

In a white flurry, she was scooped up and tossed over the lord's shoulder. The hall was just a blur, much too much like being in a car -without a comfort in confining walls- for her peace of mind. She hastily quashed the notion that perhaps she should check for a seat belt in that pelt of his...

Review Corner:

Buyo: But of course I did, koi! Pretty good, huh? Is that diplomatic lawyer-speak for 'it sux, but I'm too attached to my head to lose it to my girlfriend over such a dinky thing as to whether I like her story or not...' JK! Love you.

Yavi: Here's your relapse, dearest. lol- my fluff is making me unhappy, or perhaps I should say, the distinct lack of it. Oi, I was sooooo disappointed that I fell back on the 'throwing over shoulder' bit. -sigh- I thought I was better than that, but I thought it flowed, ne? Tell me what you think!

Ashley: BWAHAHAHAHAHA! Oh, you've caught on! No, she's not a demon, but I want to see if I can allude to it enough that people can guess by themselves. Here's a hint though, it has to do with Kagome. But yes, it's a Rin/Sesshy story. Hope you aren't disappointed... Thank you for the review, I always treasure them!

Anyone else: I'm so sorry if I didn't mention you, or if you PMd me and I lost track of you. I love every word that you give me!


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